Monday, February 2, 2009

"Are You a Musician?"

After the service yesterday, I was trying to catch up with the music director at my church (I turned in my membership papers yesterday and so can say "my church"), but he was clearly busy and I couldn't catch him. I was on the verge of just trying next week when I caught sight of a table marked "Music Stuff" or "Music Program" or "the Table Where One Can Learn About Music at this Church" or something equally as obvious. I didn't hear angels or anything, but it was definitely a moment when another, more desperate person (like me in a month) might have seen a glowing halo and heard "Aaaaaahhh..."

"Look," I said to Pete. "I bet that's where I need to go." Pete said, "What?" I don't think she's quite as concerned about me joining the choir as I am.

When I approached the table and flashed my friendliest new-person-in-need-of-guidance smile (it's really very striking and always get results), I was greeted with this question, "Are you a musician?"

Am I a musician? Hmm... Am I?

Eighteen years ago, my automatic and immediate answer would have been, "Pshaw! Of course! What a silly question!" Because I was then. I played piano and tuba and flute and oboe and bass drum and many, many other band instruments (I won an award from our director for "most diverse") and guitar and sang and hung out with musicians on a regular basis for whom I wrote incredibly poetic little songs for them to screech into a microphone in their mom's garage or rec room (and who played in the school band or regularly sang with me in front of audiences). And even a few short years after that, I might have unhesitatingly said, "Yes!" because of PSP and her dad.

But I hesitated for an instant. I really did. Most recently my musicality has been limited to bedtime lullabies and warbling along with Music for Aardvarks in the car and counting to 4 while my sweet and talented Pete practices her piano. Oh, and singing in the shower, but a rousing chorus of "Let It Snow!" amongst the suds does not make you a musician (sorry, but it really doesn't). For just an instant I hesitated.

Then I said, clearly and with certainty, "YES." I am a musician.

I may be out of practice. I really need to hone my sight-singing and piano skills, but this is why one of the main reasons I went looking for a church. Music is almost missing from my life and this is wrong. The music program at a church seemed like the best place to get it back. It's a starting place, at least.

So I signed my name and my phone number and my email address and indicated that I'm interested in choir and play a little piano and am just waiting now to hear from the director. From what I've heard, he should be anxious to talk to me. Everyone seems to think he's desperate for musicians. Although from what I've seen he's more than sufficiently surrounded by talent...

And as an added bonus, later in the day I read in either the Order of Service or the monthly newsletter that they're starting an audition-only chamber choir! Ho. Ly. Mo. Ly. That is for me.


Maria Rose said...

Once a musician, always a musician!

The Grandpa said...

Welcome back to the world of music.

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